


A Betting Man

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bar Fic, Fluff, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Ryden, Song Lyrics, a lil angsty i guess, au where ry isnt in the band, it's kinda cracky i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not a betting man, but this is a sure thing."<br/>Sitting in a bar, Pete and Brendon decide to have a little bet - who can pick up someone using only song lyrics. Brendon finds himself talking to a (very pretty) stranger, who goes by the name of Ryan Ross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Betting Man

"You're seriously betting me this?"

"Damn right."

"You know I'll win."

"Not for sure."

"You're so on, Wentz."

"Bring it, Urie."

The bar was filled with young and old, men and women, pretty and... not so pretty, from all over. Which gave them plenty of pickings - or maybe they should be called 'prey'.

They decided on the rules: you must use either Fall Out Boy or Panic! At The Disco lyrics, they must agree to it, and to win, they have to go home with you. Other than that, you can hit on whoever you want.

As Brendon immediately swung himself round on his stool at the bar to survey the room, Pete reminded him: "Remember, loser buys both bands three rounds."

Brendon smirked, "Hope you've got the money."

Pete just rolled his eyes at Brendon's cockiness.

Brendon's eyes scanned his choice, his gaze falling on a pretty red-head sat a few seats down the bar, alone. He winked at Pete before slipping off his seat and sliding into the one next to her. Pete almost choked as he heard Brendon's line, and had to pretend that he was coughing: "I'm the greatest thing that's yet to have happened, baby."

The cold look that she gave him probably should have been answer enough, but she spoke to him anyway, "I highly doubt that."

Brendon sighed, "Alright, lost cause, sorry."

She smiled at him, and he moved back to Pete, who shook his head, laughing, "That was a good line and all."

"Are we not repeating lines?"

"Nope, one time usage." Pete informed him. Then he grinned, "I dare you to hit on Big Guy, over there." He nodded in the direction of a tall, tattooed, man, who seemed to be seriously annoying a group of girls.

Brendon stared at Pete as if he was insane, "Do you want me to get stabbed?!"

Pete laughed.

"Anyway," Brendon continued, "It's your turn."

Pete allowed that, and headed over to a brunette and her blonde friend, "Looking for the time of your life?" He asked her, making her laugh aloud.

"Not with you, sorry," she told him.

When he got back to Brendon, Brendon pointed out, as if it were obvious, that the two women were obviously getting in each other's pants. Pete shook his head, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to be able to tell.

Brendon's eyes had found a young man, similarly aged and absurdly pretty, sat on the other side of the room, but he decided he'd come back to pretty-boy later. Instead, he chose another man, blond hair, blue eyes, leaning against the bar, waiting for his drink. Brendon walked up, assuming his cocky attitude that he had on-stage, and smiled at the man, "Where will you be waking up tomorrow?" He asked, leering slightly.

The guy, much to Brendon's amusement, blushed bright red, "I- I'm not- sorry- I don't-,"

Laughter burst out of Brendon, and he grinned at the guy, "It's cool, don't worry." The man seemed relieved and he gave Brendon a nervous smile that Brendon returned, reassuringly, "Have a nice night."

As Brendon made his way back to his seat, he noticed that the pretty man across the room was watching him, a small smile playing on his lips.

 

At least an hour had passed, and neither of them had succeeded.

Brendon's favourite line that he had used was, "I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck."

While Pete was more proud of, "Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name."

However, that didn't mean they had worked.

What's more, they'd hit on almost every eligible man and woman in the bar; Brendon had even given in - with the promise of a beer (if he survived) - and gone to hit on the tall muscley man. His pick up line probably hadn't been his best idea ("Do you wanna feel a little beautiful?") and it had resulted in him getting punched in the stomach. Doubling over, Brendon had coughed out an apology, and Pete had hurried over to lead him back to their seat and, buying him a beer, had laughed at him about his choice of lyrics.

The only advantage of getting punched, was that Brendon had distinctly seen pretty-boy looking concerned. He'd decided who his next 'target' was.

When he got there, pretty-boy blushed, looking down at the table, but when he looked up again his eyes were shining with amusement and he was smirking at Brendon, "Go on," he said, "What have you got for me?"

Brendon was thrown off for a moment, startled by the response - though he probably shouldn't have been; after all, pretty-boy had been watching him all evening - but he recovered, and gave the man his sleaziest smile, "When I look in your eyes I just see the sky." It was probably the cheesiest one he'd used all night, and it didn't have the desired effect - at least, not exactly.

Pretty-boy laughed at him, and rolled his eyes, but he didn't seem put off, "Is that so?" He grinned, "And did you 'see the sky' in all those other people's eyes, or just mine?"

"Some of them," Brendon said, shrugging, "But I think I might catch a dream with you."

Pretty-boy's laugh sprang from his lips, lighting up his face. Brendon was slightly dazed. He shook his head, "Sorry, but I keep calling you 'pretty-boy' in my head," he told him.

The man didn't seem upset by that, on the contrary he smiled, but then, "My name's Ryan."

Brendon smiled. Ryan. The name suited him. "Pleased to meet ya, Ryan," and then he grinned, seeing the opportunity for another lyric, "But I'd be more pleased to please ya," he told him, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Blushing wasn't usually an attractive trait to Brendon, but on Ryan it just was. Ryan's smile was almost sheepish, but he retained the confidant aura that pulled Brendon in, "Is that so?" He asked, his voice dipping to almost a whisper.

And Brendon replied, "Yes, it is," his voice simply dripping with suggestion.

Ryan chucked, "What?" He said, "No pick up line to fit in there?"

Brendon feigned irritation to fit with the one that popped into his head, "Oh, show me your love, if you want."

Ryan laughed before rolling his eyes, "Do you make these up as you go, or do you write lists before coming out?"

It was Brendon's turn to appear sheepish and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. But Brendon grinned at him a second later, "Well, I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company, so maybe tonight-,"

"Stop!" Ryan burst out, laughing, "Just stop, you've already got me sold."

Brendon looked hopeful, "You mean-?"

"Yes!" Ryan almost shouted.

Brendon's smile was almost blinding, and not only because he'd won the bet, and he held a hand out to Ryan, "Well then, I'm ready to go." When Ryan took his hand and stood up it felt natural to Brendon and he grinned at Ryan easily, standing up too, "Let's kill tonight," and Ryan's smile was all too knowing - not that Brendon noticed.

As they left the bar, Brendon barely remember to leave Ryan at the door for a moment to swing by Pete to say, "I'll see you with the guys next week then," sounding incredibly full of himself.

Pete took it graciously, and grinned, "Well played," he paused, "And have fun."

Brendon waggled his eyebrows at him.

 

Outside, Ryan looked at Brendon, pulling his scarf around his neck and tying it, "Your place, or mine?"

Obviously, they couldn't go to Brendon's; he was living with Spencer and Jon and... Well... That just wouldn't work out. Not to mention the fact that all the Panic! and Fall Out Boy paraphernalia would be hard to pass off as an obsession. The posters of him and the guys might be a giveaway, and yes, they had posters of them; for some reason, venues liked to give them to them. It didn't make sense to the guys, but they put them up. For irony's sake more than anything.

"Yours," Brendon told him, "I have room mates." It wasn't a lie exactly.

Ryan bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Brendon wasn't quite sure why he found that funny, but he didn't ask, "Okay," Ryan said, "Mine, but you have to promise to close your eyes and let me clear some stuff away when we get there."

Brendon raised his eyebrows, "Sex toys?" He guessed.

Ryan punched him on the arm, "Shut up," he said, before turning to lead the way.

Brendon hurried to keep up, saying, with a cheeky sideways glance, "Oh, no, those would be staying out, right?" Ryan blushed red, and Brendon laughed, "Don't worry, I'll shut my eyes and let you hide your creepy things."

"Thanks," Ryan muttered.

Chatting as they walked, Brendon found that, while they got on, Ryan didn't seem to be into music much, save for a love for My Chemical Romance and All Time Low. Casually, Brendon asked if he knew Fall Out Boy or Panic! At The Disco, and was relieved when Ryan seemed to genuinely not know who either bands were. Of course, Brendon didn't see the smirk on Ryan's face when he turned away slightly. Brendon said that he'd show him some time and Ryan teased him, asking if this was a one night stand or a marriage proposal. Brendon flushed and Ryan reassured him that he was joking, quickly.

Arriving at Ryan's place, Brendon was made to stand outside the flat door while Ryan slipped inside to hide something. Brendon stood with his face pressed up to the door, "What're you doing?" He called, trying to listen. He heard the rustle of some paper and a quiet "oh, shit" when something ripped. Brendon frowned at the door, "You alright?"

"Yeah!" Ryan's answer sounded breathless and stressed.

"Well, can I come in then?"

"Hang on!"

Brendon knocked his head against the door, impatiently.

"Almost... There..."

The door swung open unexpectedly, and Brendon fell straight into Ryan, "Oh!" He exclaimed.

"Hello," Ryan said, his expression bemused.

"Hello," was Brendon's echoed reply.

"Hello," Ryan said again, slightly quieter.

Brendon giggled, looking up at Ryan, "That was twice there."

Ryan rolled his eyes, knowing what Brendon was getting at, and he finished the quote, exasperated, "Dull but, y'know, thorough."

Brendon couldn't help it, and he grabbed Ryan's neck and pulled him down into a kiss, finding his feet and standing straight so that they were almost at the same height.

Ryan shut the door with one hand, the other in Brendon's hair, not letting him go, and they began to move in the direction of Ryan's room. Brendon let Ryan lead, following willingly.

Brendon was vaguely aware that Ryan had flipped on the light as they collapsed onto Ryan's bed, still joined at the lips.

 

Lying in Ryan's bed, coated with a layer of sweat, uncaring, Brendon stared around the room. The walls were lined with posters - from movies, to books, to the bands that Ryan had been talking about - but Brendon couldn't help but notice that there were gaps: spaces in the makeshift wallpaper that clearly had been filled recently. He nudged Ryan, "Why are there posters missing?" He mumbled.

Ryan stirred, "What did you say, Bren?" He asked, groggily.

Brendon licked his lips before repeating his question.

Ryan shrugged, "Just didn't like the posters."

But his voice sounded off - too nonchalant - and Brendon rolled to face him, propping himself up on one arm, "What were you doing when you made me wait outside?"

Ryan was avoiding his gaze.

"Ryan..." Brendon started, and he sounded almost scared, "Please tell me that-,"

"Yes, okay?" Ryan said, too fast, "They were posters of your band."

Brendon didn't know what to say, how to react, and he felt his body react before his mind - jumping out of the bed and skittering backwards, "Oh, my God! OhmyGod!" He shouted, "You know who I am! Fuck, you know-,"

"Brendon!" Ryan cried, sitting up and trying to get out of bed, but Brendon shook his head in alarm.

"Stay there- don't- don't-," Brendon couldn't process this, had no precedent for it, had no way of knowing what to do.

"Bren, what does it matter that I know?" Ryan tried to shout over Brendon's babble of words, which wasn't easy.

"What does it matter?" Brendon screeched, "You- I-," he couldn't even finish his sentence. Running his hands through his hair desperately, he began to grab his clothes, pulling them on haphazardly. "I've got to go," he said eventually. As Brendon sprinted from the flat he could hear Ryan calling his name, but he didn't stop.

 

Brendon was still running when he got to his band's shared house. Throwing the door open he let his body crash against the wall of the hall, his back sliding down it until he was sitting, curled up, on the floor. He didn't know what else to do, so he pulled his phone out and dialled Pete's number, "I need your help."

 

"At least come to the bar with us, Brendon," Spencer said, leaning his head against the door post and surveying Brendon, "You did win us these drinks."

"Thanks for the reminder," Brendon grumbled.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Get up."

"I don't wanna."

"Do you think Ryan's moping?"

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do." Spencer told him, and, of course, he was right.

Brendon decided to do as he was told, after all, Spencer was right, he had earned these drinks.

Arriving at the bar - the same bar - with Jon and Spencer, Brendon was wearing skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, for lack of anything else clean. He had barely bothered to fix his hair.

Determinedly not looking around the bar, Brendon sat down with the others, who were already there. They greeted him with varying degrees of enthusiasm; Pete punched him on the shoulder encouragingly, Joe and Andy nodded at him, mid-conversation, and Patrick grinned, saying 'Hey'. Brendon nodded at them and worked on getting his face to smile.

Everyone was having fun. Two out of the three rounds down and they were all on the verge of being drunk. Even Brendon was almost enjoying himself.

After a while, he excused himself to go to the bathroom but when he got up and took a few steps something blocked his way.

Hazily, Brendon forced his eyes to focus and he reeled backwards when he saw what- who it was. "Fuck," Brendon spat, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Ryan answered. "Like I've been doing every day since you left."

Brendon blinked. "What?" He asked sarcastically, "You couldn't just come to my house? I mean, you'd know where that is right?"

Ryan almost shouted at Brendon, "Bren! I'm not some creepy stalker fan!" He looked so desperate and exhausted, "Yes, I like your band. Yes, we slept together. No, those things are not connected!"

The others had fallen silent and were watching the argument intently. Brendon wanted to snap at them, to tell them to mind their own damn business, but he couldn't take his eyes off Ryan. He chewed at his lip, staring at Ryan, "It's still too weird."

Ryan smirked, "Too weird to live, but too rare to die."

"Don't quote me to me!"

"I can't do what you did in everything you said the other night?" Ryan asked, a teasing light in his eye.

The corner of Brendon's mouth was edging up, threatening to break into a smile, "No." He said. Then he rubbed at his nose, smiling ever so slightly, "God, that's embarrassing."

Ryan laughed, "Nah, it was cute." He glanced over Brendon's shoulder at the others, "What's embarrassing is that I'm having this conversation in front of Patrick Stump."

The table erupted into laughter and Patrick grinned at him, "It's fine."

Brendon and Ryan blushed simultaneously and Ryan leant closer to Brendon, whispering to him, "He's like my idol and he just spoke to me."

Brendon laughed, loudly, "Welcome to my world."

Ryan smiled at him, pulling away again, "You'll be the death of me, Brendon Urie."

"But it's how you want to go?" Brendon guessed.

"Absolutely."

Brendon considered him, "Let me buy you a drink," he offered.

Ryan looked hopeful, "You mean-?"

"Yes," Brendon told him, and then he grinned, "Well, I mean technically Pete's gonna buy you a drink."

Pete looked slightly annoyed, "Hey, he's not in either band!"

"No, but he's the reason you're buying all these drinks," Joe pointed out, smiling at Ryan, who in turn, smiled back nervously.

Pete sighed, "Alright, what do you want?"

As Pete left to get the drinks (everyone had asked for something) Brendon pulled up another chair and gestured for Ryan to sit down; he chuckled when he heard Ryan mumble to himself, "This is so surreal."

Naturally, the first question asked was, "So, Ryan, do you play any instruments?"

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for writing this. I'm sorry. I only wrote this because I didn't have access to my laptop to write more of my other Ryden fic (Our Love Is Pretty Odd). It was fun though; let me know what you think?  
> Also, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


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